


You Are My Sunshine

by btamin



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Flashbacks, M/M, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 12:31:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7268368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/btamin/pseuds/btamin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has a muggle song stuck in his head—You Are My Sunshine. His father would have disapproved, but Harry rubbed off on him. He supposed the only bad thing was that he couldn't remember the last verse. [song fic]</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Are My Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe listen to the song on repeat while you read this so it breaks your heart even more? Just a suggestion <3
> 
> (also this is a song fic but I don't know if I did it properly)

Draco had been humming the same song for the past few days. _You Are My Sunshine_. It was a muggle song that his father would have disapproved him of knowing, but Harry rubbed off on him. Draco supposed that the only bad thing about it was that he couldn’t remember the last verse, and he was stuck singing the same bits over and over again. It irked him and he hummed it over and over again, feeling the final verse, the closure, on the tip of his tongue.

*     *     *

Draco was on the Hogwarts Express, returning to school for his final year. It was going to be miserable. He could already tell. There were Death Eaters lurking in every compartment of the train, hexing and cursing any student they didn’t like. Dementors hovered at every door, making the long ride to Scotland cold and miserable. Draco didn’t even want to be back here, not after last year, but he had no choice. He fixed his prefect badge on his outer robe and set off to patrol and pretend he enjoyed torturing terrified looking first years.

Starting at the prefect’s compartment in the front of the train, Draco took a slow stroll, looking for Potter and his cronies. The year was going to be miserable as fuck, but at least Potter, the one constant in his life, would be there. Draco didn’t know why his biggest rival would make this shit year any better, but he knew Potter would. Longbottom and the rest of Potter’s freak friends were in the last compartment, but Potter was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Potter?” Draco demanded.

“It’s none of your business, is it?” Longbottom retorted. Draco snorted. He didn’t think the pathetic Gryffindor had it in him to ever talk back. “You slimy, Death Eater git.”

“Detention, Longbottom,” Draco sneered. Who did the bastard think he was? And where was Potter? “Six o’clock, in the dungeons. Two weeks.”

“We’re not even at the school,” the She-Weasel snarled. “You can’t do that.”

“Watch me, Weasley,” Draco jeered. “Say another word and you can join the blundering idiot.” The red-headed bint whipped out her wand from her sleeve but one of Potter’s freak friends held her back. “Now,” Draco continued. “Where’s Potter?”

“He’s not here,” Loony Lovegood said simply. “He’s gone away on a vacation.” Away? Where to? Why?

“Couldn’t return after the idiot headmaster died?” Draco bluffed. “Some coward, the Boy Who Lived.” Draco slammed the compartment door shut and stalked away. Draco heard a soft humming fading away as he walked back to the prefects’ car. Loony Lovegood.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_  
_You make me happy when skies are grey_  
_You never know, dear, how much I love you_  
_Please don't take my sunshine away_

There wasn’t any more point in patrolling. Potter wasn’t here to taunt. The single constant in his life wasn’t here to ground him. Nothing mattered anymore.

*     *     *

Harry’s old record sang Draco to sleep.

_The other night dear, as I lay sleeping_  
_I dreamed I held you in my arms_  
_But when I awoke, dear, I was mistaken_  
_So I hung my head and I cried_

Sunlight bled through their pale-yellow curtains. It poked at Draco’s eyes, urging him awake. He sighed in exasperation and shifted around to face his back to the light when he felt a heavy load on his body: an arm. Tan and scarred, lean but muscular: Harry. Harry! He was back from the Auror mission! Draco’s eyes flew open and he sat up in their large bed and Harry groaned softly at the sudden lack of warmth (Draco) and felt around for the blanket. Draco’s lips pulled up to a wide smile. He reached down and pressed his lips onto Harry’s. Draco showered light nips and kisses all around Harry’s lips and stubbly jaw, running his fingers through Harry’s coarse hair and Harry’s lips widened into a smile. Draco pulled himself up to get a better look at his husband—the one he hadn’t seen in three months. Harry’s hair was as untamed as ever, stubbles peppered along his jaw. Harry slowly opened his eyes, and as soon as Draco was about to see his brilliant green, everything faded away.

Draco woke with cold sweat matting his hair to his forehead. The night was dark, bare moonlight icy and blue. The bed was too large and sheets cold. Tears crept to his eyes, and soon, Draco was crying again. Harry wasn’t here. He hadn’t been for the past three months. Draco was alone.

*     *     *

Draco and Harry had been married for two years. They’d had their ups and downs and went through a lot of happiness and hardships together. They were together and happy.

“I can’t believe you.”

“Draco, please.”

“No. Didn’t we establish this? Didn’t we already have a talk about how I absolutely abhor undercover auror assignments, Harry?” Draco was livid. Harry took up on another undercover case. This was the fifth since they started seeing each other (second after they got married) and it was the longest one yet.

“Two months, Harry. For two _fucking_ months, I won’t know anything. I won’t know where you are, if you’ve eaten or slept, if you’re sick or well. Hell, I won’t even know if you’re _alive_ , Harry,” Draco snarled. “And you expect me to understand? To let you do this?”

“Draco—”

“No.” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose and shushed his husband. “I don’t want to hear any more. You’re only going to make me more mad. Stop talking.” And he did. Harry did seem sorry, but Draco didn’t care. He didn’t want Harry gone for so long, not even knowing if he was alive or dead. Draco fell into the pale sofa behind him and tightly wound his limbs together, shooting glares at Harry. He was furious that Harry took up another undercover case after the three-hour lecture last time and without even _consulting_ Draco. He was furious that Harry took up another undercover case and was missing their three-year anniversary. But mostly, Draco was furious that Harry was purposely subjecting himself to extreme danger. Draco kept his eyes burning with rage, lips pursed thin. Harry didn’t dare approach him.

The silence stretched on for an uncomfortable length of time, and Harry began to sing softly.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_  
_You make me happy when skies are grey_  
_You never know, dear, how much I love you_  
_Please don't take my sunshine away_

Draco stiffly turned to look at Harry. “Didn’t I ask you not to talk? One would usually assume that such a request would extend to singing.” Harry chewed on his lower lip and moved next to Draco. He sat straight, hands fidgeting in his lap, knees bouncing from nervousness.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Harry began. “I should have talked to you before I took the case, and I’m sorry I even did. I know how much you hate undercover cases.” Harry brushed a lock of hair away from Draco’s eyes and turned Draco’s face toward Harry. “This _is_ really important to me, but I should have taken your opinions into account first. I’m really sorry, Draco.”

“I just don’t that you keep subjecting yourself to danger,” Draco said softly. “I know that sweeping up the rest of the Death Eaters is important but I can’t stand that you’d leave everything behind for it.”

“I’m not—”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Draco loosened the tension in his body and crawled closer to Harry and immediately felt him relax. Harry looped his arms around Draco and kissed the crown of his head.

“What was that song you were singing?” Harry gave a light chuckle.

“Muggle song,” Harry said. “It’s called _You Are My Sunshine_. My grade school teacher used to play it a lot in class.”

“I've heard it before, I think. I didn't like it then, but I like it now,” Draco murmured.

“I was hoping you would.” Harry was lightly stroking Draco’s arm. Draco looked up at his husband.

“Teach me it?”

“Why not, Sunshine?” Harry smirked playfully.

“Oh, sod off.” Draco gave Harry a light shove. He merely laughed and pulled Draco closer, giving him a peck on the cheek.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you, too.”

*     *     *

Draco walked down Diagon Alley. He was dressed in sleek, dark green robes that Harry had gotten him on their first anniversary. Draco had his wand at ready (albeit in his robe sleeve) in case someone was to try and hex him. He walked confidently but briskly to his destination: Fabienne’s Flowers.

Today was the two month mark since Harry left for the case. Today was the day he was coming home. Draco bought a large bouquet for his return, daintily arranged with lilies and roses and forget-me-nots. Many other flowers decorated the bouquet and Draco loved every single one of them.

“They’ll stay fresh until the person this is intended for receives it,” the old lady told him. “Then they’ll become regular flowers and will wilt when their time comes.” Draco paid for the flowers, thanked the lady, and walked back home, humming _You Are My Sunshine._ It’d been stuck in Draco’s head for the past two months. He didn’t mind it though. It reminded Draco of Harry.

_I'll always love you and make you happy_  
_If you will only say the same_  
_But if you leave me to love another,_  
_You'll regret it all one day_

Draco came home and put the bouquet in a vase. He knew it wouldn’t wilt, but Draco wanted everything to look nice for when Harry came home. Draco cleaned up their flat, cooked an elaborate meal (despite the fact that Draco’s cooking skills were nowhere close to Harry’s), and waited for his husband to return home. But he didn’t.

And Harry didn’t return the next day. Or the next week. Or the next month.

The flowers remained fresh in the crystal vase.

*     *     *

Draco picked up the bouquet from the vase exactly three months and twelve days after he bought it. He grabbed his wand and Apparated to where Harry was.

“I missed you so much,” Draco said. “Every day of the five months you were gone.” He laid the bouquet on Harry’s grave. “And every day that’s to come in my future.” _My future, not ours, because you aren’t here anymore._

The funeral had taken place a month ago, but Draco did not attend. He had been too grief-stricken and in denial of Harry’s death. Draco sat at home, lying in bed, doing nothing but sleeping and singing, only eating when Pansy or Hermione forced him to. Draco told them that he would visit Harry’s grave when he could remember the last verse of _You Are My Sunshine_. The record was smashed when Draco learned of the news, and he couldn’t listen to the song anymore. Hermione had taken pity and offered to tell him herself, but he declined; it was the last memory Draco had with Harry, and he was determined to remember it himself.

_You are my sunshine, my only sunshine_  
_You make me happy when skies are grey_  
_You never know, dear, how much I love you_  
_Please don't take my sunshine away_

“I remembered the last verse, Harry,” Draco said softly. “I wanted to sing the whole song for you when you got home. I guess I’m a month late, Sunshine.” Draco’s eyes watered and moments later, he was sobbing loudly on Harry’s grave.

“Please don’t leave me, Harry,” Draco cried. “Don’t leave me, Sunshine.” Draco’s face turned red and he choked on air, desperately holding onto Harry’s grave. Sharp pains resonated throughout Draco’s chest, but he gave out a weak sputter of laughter when he saw the flowers that had been fresh for five months beginning to dry.

_Please don't take my sunshine away_

**Author's Note:**

> ngl I wrote most of this at ~12-4am, so it kind of sucked. sorry about that
> 
> please leave feedback and comments. it's what drives me to write more. thanks for reading <3


End file.
